


When Tony Stark Takes You In

by CatyCoffeebean



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Adopted Peter Parker, Angst, Canon Divergence - Spider-Man: Homecoming, Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Tony Stark, Teen Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-04-23 08:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19147600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatyCoffeebean/pseuds/CatyCoffeebean
Summary: When May unexpectedly passes away, Peter is left with nobody, and nowhere else to turn. In a sudden moment of decision-making, Tony not only takes Peter in, but he offers to adopt him. What Tony doesn't realize, however is just how unprepared he feels for parenthood, and just how much more Peter will matter to him once he decides to call him "son."





	1. I Knew I Loved You

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for giving this fic a chance! There will be a mention of drunk driving / alcohol in this chapter, so if that's something that you aren't comfortable with, I figured I'd give a warning. 
> 
> I love all my readers 3000 <3

The air below Peter was clear, mercifully, from his vantage point atop a tall building in Queens. It was a little after sundown and while he knew he had to be getting back to his apartment at some point, it was too tempting to continue swinging around. All he wanted to do was clear his head. Pulling off his mask, Peter inhaled deeply and then exhaled. While it was New York air and it was a given that it wasn’t completely pure, from his spot on the side of the skyscraper, the air was much less polluted by smog from the exhaust pipes of taxis, cars, and other vehicles constantly bustling around on the crowded streets below.

If there was one thing he hated as of late, it was feeling defenseless. Sure, he had his homemade suit, but it just wasn’t the same as the one he had lost. Mr. Stark had taken his suit after a harrowing incident with a massive boat—he supposed he couldn’t blame his mentor for doing it. He had just been trying to _help_ , and it had backfired. His eyes stung with tears and he wiped them away angrily. Nothing was more frustrating than just trying to make his point and failing to do so.

May would kill him if he wasn’t back soon, though, so he shot some of his web out and was on his way, after he pulled his mask back down. Happy hadn’t been answering any of his texts, and had barely been picking up his calls, and he wasn’t about to call Mr. Stark to see if he would answer. It was already starting to get dark, so he swung through Queens faster. “Gotta get home, gotta get _home,_ ” he grumbled. The last thing he needed was May getting mad at him and grounding him. It would just make patrolling that much harder if he wasn’t allowed to go out.

The trip back to the apartment was quick, but as soon as he had begun scaling up the side of the building, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up—his spidey-sense, as he and Tony had dubbed it, was acting up as it always did when something wasn’t right. He had left his window open, and then slowly made his way across the ceiling of his room. Everything was exactly as he had left it, so why was that ominous feeling still _there_?

The apartment was oddly quiet, and Peter couldn’t help but wonder if May was at work at the hospital doing a late shift, or if she had gone out to run some errands and just hadn’t come back yet. Peter dropped down off the ceiling and landed on his bed, pulling off his mask. He opened the door that led from his room to the rest of the apartment and glanced around. Some of the lights were off, while a few were still on. “May? Are you here?” he called out. There was no reply.

He dug through his pockets and pulled out his phone. The screen lit up as he swiped his finger across it. There were no new notifications, so he could only assume that May was busy, but he called her number anyway to see if she would pick up. When it went to voicemail, he cursed internally, but left her a message. At the very least, if he needed someone to cover for him, he knew Ned would help him out. “Hey, May, it’s Peter. I just got back from Ned’s not too long ago, but I guess you’re not home. I’m not sure if you’re at work or not, but if you could just give me a call whenever you get the chance, I’d appreciate that. I’ll see you whenever you get home. I larb you.”

With that, he ended the call, although he couldn’t help but feel worried regardless. It had to just be a case of his anxiety lying to him. Peter went over to the couch and laid down on it, propping his head up on a pillow. After that, he turned on the television to a low volume so there was some background noise. He didn’t want to get too overwhelmed by the sounds from the city outside. Closing his eyes, Peter dozed off fairly quickly, into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

* * *

 

That nap, however, was disturbed by the ringing of his phone. He opened his eyes tiredly and rolled over to look at his phone. It had been a little after nine o’clock when he had fallen asleep, but it was about twelve thirty in the morning now, and the call wasn’t from May, like he had expected it to be. It was an unfamiliar number, but even the sheer sight of it on his phone was enough to make Peter’s gut clench. He picked it up, and swiped to answer. “Hello?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

“Is this Peter Parker?” the voice on the other side of the line asked. It was a woman’s voice, calm and composed—the exact opposite of how Peter felt. He felt sick.

“Yes, this is Peter,” he said. “Who am I speaking to?” It was a ridiculously professional sort of tone, but since he wasn’t sure still who was on the other end of the line, he wanted to be wary.

“My name is Amanda Rembrandt and I’m a coworker of your aunt’s, at the hospital. We have some unfortunate news.” Her voice was gentle, and all of Peter’s alarm bells were going off almost immediately. “Peter, your aunt was hit by a car on her way into work—the impact was—I hate to say it, but it was fatal as soon as it happened. The car was going too fast, and we suspect that the driver was under the influence of alcohol. Can you come up to the hospital?”

Peter couldn’t breathe. The breath was stuck in his lungs—God, he couldn’t breathe, _couldn’t breathe_ —

“Y-yes, I—I can—I’ll—thank you for letting me know—” Peter stuttered. His vision was blurry with tears as he tried to navigate to the starred contacts part of his phone. When his sight failed him due to the tears, he hit the voice command button on his phone. There was only one person who he could think to call at that moment, and he hoped to everything good and holy that they picked up.

“C-call…Call Tony Stark.”

“ _Calling Tony Stark_ ,” the phone’s robotic voice parroted back. The dial tone rang and then Tony’s voice filled Peter’s ear. It was the one beacon of familiarity he could grasp onto at that moment, and he hung onto it.

“Pete, what’s going on? It’s past midnight. Don’t you have school tomorrow?” Tony asked, though he didn’t push immediately, as if he could sense something was wrong.

Peter’s voice broke, and he began sobbing into the phone. The tears that had been threatening to spill over finally escaped his eyes and trickled down his cheeks. He was pretty sure that there was also some snot escaping his nose, but it didn’t matter, none of it mattered, because May was never coming home. “Mr. Stark—May—she—” It was all he could manage before the sobs morphed into the beginnings of hyperventilation.

“Woah, Pete, woah. Slow down,” Tony replied, and Peter could hear some rustling on the other end of the line, as if Tony was getting up and moving around even as they spoke. “What happened? I need you to calm down and talk to me for just a second. Can you do that?”

Peter tried to even out his breathing, but the panic was still threatening to consume him. Despite that, he forced himself to push through and finish his statement, if only so his mentor would know what was going on. “May—I got a call from the hospital just before I called you—She—She was on her way to work and…she got hit by a drunk driver or something and it was fatal. They need me to go up to the hospital, but I—I don’t think I can do it alone, and—”

Without missing a beat, Tony replied, “I’m on my way. I’ll be at your apartment in ten minutes. Hang in there, kiddo.” His voice was soft, quite at odds with how it had sounded the last time that he had talked to Peter—when he had taken his suit. “Hang in there, Pete.”

“I—I will. Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter choked out before hanging up to the call. As soon as the call had ended, he dropped to his knees and shook with sobs.

* * *

 

“Where are you going, Tony?” Pepper asked, blue eyes blinking up at Tony from her pillow as he kicked the blankets back. “It’s almost one in the morning!” She sat up and grabbed his arm with one hand gently. “You’re looking like Steve just lit a fire under your bottom.”

Tony smoothed Pepper’s hair back from her forehead and he kissed it. “I’ve gotta go to the Parker residence. Peter’s aunt was hit by a car and they need him up at the hospital. The poor kid’s got nobody now.” He’d taken the suit because he’d been so goddamn scared of what Peter would do with the tech if he had it—he’d taken it out of fear, but he’d never been mad at Peter. And dammit, if that kid needed him, he was going to be there for him, especially given how much loss he’d gone through in his life. He’d told Tony about his parents, and then his uncle, and now there was the loss of his aunt.

Howard had never been there for Tony, had never held him when he had cried. He had only ever reiterated that “ _Stark men are made of iron_.” Screw that. Since Peter couldn’t have his father or his uncle, and had now just lost his aunt, Tony would hold Peter as long as he needed, would catch him when he fell, would be a shoulder to cry on, even though he had never been one for much physical contact.

“Oh my God,” Pepper gasped. “Don’t let me keep you, then. Get to him. Call me if you need anything at all,” she said, and Tony nodded. With that, he descended downstairs and then got in his car. The drive was quick, only because Tony sped over there as fast as he could. Mercifully, nobody pulled him over. As soon as he reached the apartment complex, he found his way up to Peter’s apartment and threw open the door.

“Peter?” Tony asked, although it didn’t take him long to find him. Peter was on the floor, his phone next to him. His hands were digging into his arms so firmly that he was probably close to drawing blood thanks to his enhanced strength. Tony dropped to Peter’s level and gently pried his hands away from his arms. “Peter, I’m here now. It’s okay.” He felt so out of his element right now—how did one comfort a grieving young teenager? He put his arms around Peter and pulled him close. Peter felt like a tense wooden board in his embrace. “We’ll go up to the hospital as soon as you’re ready, but not before that. I’m going to need you to calm down, to even out your breathing.”

Peter relaxed against Tony, and then wrapped his arms around him, his hands fisting in Tony’s shirt, and he sobbed and sobbed. Tony said nothing, and sat more fully on the ground. One hand came up to ruffle Peter’s curls, and he rocked him back and forth slowly. It was one thing he knew for certain that calmed him when Pepper did it, so maybe it would work on Peter. As soon as Peter was calm, they would leave, but Tony wasn’t about to rush him.

In that moment, he decided he’d be there for Peter no matter what.


	2. So Far to Find You

Tony held onto Peter until his breathing had evened out enough that he could speak, which took about five minutes. He certainly didn’t want to rush him, though he knew the hospital staff would be waiting for them—and Tony remembered the struggles of dealing with the loss of parents all too well. Though he had never been all that close to Howard, the loss of his mother had affected him greatly. Thankfully at that time, he had had Jarvis to support him, but it had still been difficult. Regardless, it was going to be difficult for Peter even more than it had been for Tony.

“Can you stand up, Pete? We’re gonna have to go to the hospital. I know it’ll be tough for you, but I’ll be there with you the whole time.” He helped Peter to his feet and put a hand on his shoulder. “My car is parked out front.”

Peter nodded a little, though his eyes appeared glazed over. Tony’s hand was gentle on Peter’s back as he escorted him out of the apartment and into the passenger seat of his Audi. “Buckle up. We’ll be there in a few minutes.” Peter did as he was instructed, and then Tony started the car. The ride to the hospital was quiet, though Peter let out a couple of sniffles and Tony glanced at him with momentary concern.

When they reached the hospital, Tony parked the car. The blood drained from Peter’s face as he glanced at it, and he as looked though he was going to be sick. “Mr. Stark, will you go with me when it comes time to see her? I don’t know if I’d be able to do it by myself.” His bottom lip quivered, and Tony carded a tentative hand through his hair.

“Of course, Peter. Whatever you need,” he replied softly. Tony opened the car door and stepped out, and then went around to the other side to let Peter out. He followed suit, and Tony put an arm around Peter’s shoulders and drew him to his side. “Let’s go.” The pair walked through the hospital doors, and Tony couldn’t help but bristle just a little. He had never liked hospitals—they had always made him feel twitchy, but he tampered it down for Peter.

Peter’s eyes were red as they approached the front desk. “I received a call from Amanda Rembrandt about…about my aunt, May Parker. She was—she was hit by a car and they said…they said it was—” He couldn’t finish the statement, and instead hid his face in Tony’s side to keep himself from bursting into tears in front of the receptionist. Thankfully, Tony stepped in and spoke, and Peter could see the briefest flash of surprise on her face.

“The accident was fatal,” Tony said quietly. “I’m taking care of him for now, but we need to get in and…see her.” He rubbed a hand up and down Peter’s arm in a comforting gesture. “If we could at least get in touch with Nurse Rembrandt, that would be appreciated.” He glanced down at Peter out of the corner of his eye. The teen was still nestled into his side, trying to fight off tears. Tony had to admit, he was a little surprised by just how well Peter was holding it together, though he was also proud of him.

“Of course, Mr. Stark,” the receptionist replied. She lifted the phone off the hook and made a brief call, and then when she had finished, she put the phone back down. “Nurse Rembrandt will be here in a few moments, if you would just like to sit down until then.” She offered a sympathetic smile and then Tony led Peter over to a chair and helped him sit down on it.

It would only be a matter of time until the Department of Social Services came calling, Tony knew. Peter had already been orphaned once, though at that point, he had had Ben and May there to step in. Now, however, he was orphaned again, but with nowhere to go, which definitely would throw a wrench into the stability that Peter had once had. If it came down to it, he would intervene. “You’ll get through this, Peter,” he said, though at the moment, the teenager was probably feeling as if that were the exact opposite. “Don’t feel pressured to do anything you’re not comfortable with. If at any point it gets to be too much for you, we can step out and I can take care of things.”

Peter let out a sniffle again and shook his head. “I think I can do this. It—it won’t be easy for me, but…I owe her this, at the very least,” he said, though he didn’t look convinced even as he said it. “Is that stupid of me?” he asked, and Tony shook his head vehemently.

“No, it isn’t. You’re going through a difficult time, so it’s completely understandable that you might not know what to do, or not feel ready to say goodbye.” Tony patted Peter’s shoulder as they waited, though he didn’t say anything else. There wasn’t anything he _could_ say that would make the situation better, and even if he did try to say something, he was far too worried about screwing it up, offending Peter, or anything like that. “If you want me to go in the room with you, I can, or if you want to go in alone, I can stay in the hallway.” He didn’t want to say the word ‘morgue.’ It held too much weight—weight that Peter shouldn’t have to deal with at this point, given everything else.

A few more minutes passed in silence as Tony and Peter waited, and they were eventually greeted by Nurse Rembrandt. She smiled sadly at Peter and Tony as she approached. Tony stood up and shook her hand. Unlike the receptionist, she didn’t seem too fazed by seeing Tony Stark in the hospital, let alone with Peter. “Hello, Mr. Stark. Hello, Peter.” She shook Peter’s hand after, though it was clear that he was trying his hardest to maintain composure. “We have May here. We’ll take care of her according to your wishes, but we wanted to at least give you the chance to say your goodbyes.” She placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Take as long as you need. We’ve prepared her for you to view her, though of course we can make any other preparations you might want done before her funeral.”

Peter inhaled and then exhaled as if trying to calm himself and nodded. “All right. Please take us there—and if it’s okay, I’d like to have Mr. Stark come in.” Tony put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, and Peter glanced up at him. He still felt like he was losing hold of all stability that he had ever had, but it was helping him having Mr. Stark here. He certainly hadn’t expected that his mentor would drop everything at almost one in the morning just to come help him.

Nurse Rembrandt nodded, and then led the way to the elevator. Tony and Peter stepped inside, and Peter had the briefest urge to give Tony’s hand a squeeze, but he resisted. Tony had already let him be clingy enough as it was. He glanced up at Tony and then back down at the floor. Tony glanced down at him and held one hand out to the side slightly, before his gaze moved back up to the elevator doors. Peter reached for it and gave it a squeeze, and his eyes filled with tears again, but he bit his lip to keep from crying more. The elevator ride felt like the longest few minutes of his life, and then it let out a _ding,_ and the doors opened as they reached the very bottom level of the hospital.

The hallway in front of them was empty, and Nurse Rembrandt walked ahead of them a short distance. Peter and Tony still walked behind her, though Peter had dropped his hand back to his side after they had stepped out of the elevator. “Remember, Pete, if it gets to be too much for you, you can step out of the room. I’ll go in there with you if you want,” Tony murmured quietly, though his voice still echoed throughout the hall.

The trio stopped outside a door after a few moments, and the word _MORGUE_ was written on a sign in the middle of it. Tony put a hand on Peter’s shoulder as Nurse Rembrandt pushed open the door partway. “We have her covered mostly with a blanket. You can take as long as you like, or as short a time as you like.” She opened the door the rest of the way, and stepped inside, before going over to the other side of the room to do some miscellaneous work, leaving Tony and Peter to their own devices.

Peter stepped towards the table, his body shaking. Before, the mention of May being dead seemed like something distant, like it had happened to someone else, but now that he was presented with the reality of the situation, his grief felt all-consuming. He moved towards May, closer, closer—and sure enough, the majority of her body was covered with a blanket. Her face was visible, and her eyes were closed. She looked serene despite what had to have been a painful, painful accident. Her hands were clasped together over her stomach, and Peter had a vague flashback to when he had gone to Ben’s viewing and he had been laying in his casket in a similar position.

Peter choked on a sob, and he put his hand on top of May’s. It wasn’t warm—but what should he have expected? “I’m so sorry, May. I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “This wasn’t what I wanted to have happen at all. I love you so much.” He leaned his head against the table and let the tears slip down his cheeks. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do without you.” He closed his eyes, not wanting to face the truth of it all.

Peter didn’t know how long he sat there, his hand atop May’s, his head leaning on the table. Perhaps it was just a short moment, perhaps it was an hour; he wasn’t certain. Ever since he had heard the announcement, time had been dragging by in a slow, slow fashion. It felt like the world was ending. He was faintly aware of footsteps approaching the table, though he didn’t lift his head. Another hand, much larger than Peter’s own, covered both his and May’s.

“You don’t need to worry about Peter, May. I’ll take care of everything from here on out. I’ll take care of the funeral, and I’ll take care of Peter.”

It was Tony.

His voice was soft, and there was a hint of sadness in it as he was speaking. Peter finally lifted his head and looked at Tony through teary brown eyes. “Mr. Stark—?” Tony was standing next to him. “What do you mean by that?” Was it only going to be temporary? The last thing Peter wanted was to get stuck in the foster care system, but he didn’t want to impose on Mr. Stark. He had already probably bothered him more than he wanted to deal with. Peter wiped at his eyes, though he didn’t remove his hand from atop of May’s. “I—I don’t want to be a bother, though. You have so much to take care of as it is, and I don’t want to add to that.”

Tony put his other hand on Peter’s back and rubbed comforting circles. “Peter, you wouldn’t be a bother. Don’t start thinking like that. It doesn’t do you any good. May certainly wouldn’t want you to fall into that mindset,” he said a little sternly. “I’m more than willing to take you in.”

That brought another wave of tears to Peter’s eyes, and he finally removed his hand from May’s. “Th-thank you, Mr. Stark.” He hugged his mentor one more time, and then Tony turned to Nurse Rembrandt.

“I’ll be taking care of the funeral.” He took out a piece of paper and wrote his phone number on it before handing it to her. “Have the hospital contact me when it comes time to transporting May to the funeral home. I know that the DSS will also probably want to know what will be going on with Peter, so have them call me as well. I’m going to try and get custody of Peter so he doesn’t get shuffled around too much.” With that, he helped Peter stand up.

“Come on, Pete, let’s get you to my place and get you to bed. You need it,” Tony said, and Peter wasn’t inclined to disagree. Sleep sounded good, even if it would be fitful, because it would let him temporarily drift off and enjoy a better world that wasn’t plagued with so much pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your support! I read all the comments, and all your kudos, bookmarks, and everything means a lot to me. :) You can find me on Twitter at @catycoffeebean and on Tumblr at @juminhansbride.
> 
> I love you 3000!


	3. I'm Already There

The ride back to Tony’s was long, but quiet. Peter was silent the whole way, his head leaning against the window. Seeing May lying there had been one of the worst things ever, and it had brought back far too many memories of being at Ben’s funeral and watching May fall apart over the loss of her husband. He hadn't cried at the funeral--at that point, he had to be strong for her. And he hadn't been able to cry for a while after his uncle's murder thanks to still being numb from it.

This was just one more loss of a family member in his life, one more thing that set him apart from everyone around him. He only looked up briefly when Tony cleared his throat as he drove, jolting Peter from his reverie.

"You know, Peter, for a while after Howard and my mother died, I was numb. It didn't feel real. I wondered if I was terrible for not crying at their funeral, especially when it came to my mother. I hadn't been too close with Howard. I was grieving in my own way though. I grieved differently for Jarvis when he died too," Tony said wistfully, his voice trailing off for a moment or two as he kept his eyes trained on the road.

Peter could see his grip tightening just a little on the steering wheel before he loosened it and sighed. "You know, I'm not sure _why_ I'm saying that, but I guess I hope it helps you in some way. Grieve in your own time, in your own way. Don't let anyone tell you how you should feel about this, got it?" he asked, and Peter nodded wordlessly. He couldn't articulate with any manner of elegance just how much all of this meant to him.

 _Tony Stark_ had come up to his apartment at one in the morning and taken him to the hospital, no questions asked.

 _Tony Stark_ had hugged him on the floor of his apartment as he screamed and sobbed in grief, eyes raw from the tears that hadn't stopped flowing since his arrival.

 _Tony Stark_ had stayed by his side in a morgue, let him squeeze his hand in an elevator, and was trying to get emergency custody of him so he wouldn't get shuffled through the foster care system.

 _Tony Stark,_ who had dealt with palladium poisoning, who had been hooked up to a car battery in Afghanistan, who had become Iron Man, who had thrown a missile into space, who had seen potential in him and taken him under his wing--that very same Tony Stark who had been his hero since the day of the Stark Expo after saving him from a drone--no, even before that--that same Tony Stark was being so open and vulnerable in a way he hadn't before.

 _Tony Stark_ , who could have anything and everything on earth that he wanted, wanted to help Peter. It was overwhelming.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark," Peter finally said, trying to smile just a little bit. “Thank you” was all he could say that seemed to be even slightly adequate. And he could only hope that Mr. Stark knew just how grateful he was. Tony glanced over at him and smiled a little in response.

“It’s no problem, Pete,” he replied. “I’m happy to help.” After a few moments of being quiet, he spoke up again. “I still have your other suit, the one I made for you. I’m still a little reluctant to give it back to you if only because I was trying to teach you a lesson, but I think given the circumstances, I’ll let you have it back. Just--for the love of God, don’t go out and do any insane stuff if I explicitly tell you not to, understand? I’m going to be taking care of you from here on out, and I don’t want to have to deal with worrying myself sick over you if it’s preventable.” He appeared relieved when Peter nodded in response.

“All right, Mr. Stark.” It was a weird thing to realize that he was going to be in his mentor’s care, and an even weirder thing to try and process that he might want to be called something other than ‘Mr. Stark’ all the time, although Peter supposed that if he had a problem with it, he would tell him.

“We’re almost back to my place. There’s a guest room that you can stay in until we can get it fixed up with your belongings and stuff and get it set up according to your liking,” Tony said, and then he turned into his driveway. “We’ll go back up to the hospital sometime later today to figure things out, but you need a bit of a break.” He pulled the Audi into his garage and then put it in park, getting out.

Peter followed suit, though he felt exhausted. This had been the longest day of his life, and he couldn’t wait until he could just lay down and sleep. At least then, he would be able to forget, albeit temporarily, that the last member of his immediate family was now dead. It was only then that he remembered he had brought absolutely nothing with him from the apartment in his rush to get out the door, and he flushed in embarrassment. “Mr. Stark, I just realized--I didn’t bring any clothes or anything with me.”

Tony waved a hand dismissively. “You can just wear some of my old clothes, it’s fine. I have plenty of stuff that I haven’t worn in a while that we could probably fit you into.” He led the way up to the door and Peter followed. By now it was at least two in the morning, and Peter felt like he was going to collapse from exhaustion.

“That’d be great, thanks,” he replied. Once inside the giant house, he followed Tony up the stairs, to a door on the upper floor. “Is this the guest room?” he asked, and Tony nodded. “Go on in. The bed is made. I’ll get you some of my old clothes and you can get some rest. Don’t feel pressured to wake up at any certain time or anything like that.” He gave Peter a pat on the shoulder and then walked across the hall to his bedroom.

Peter opened the door and went inside the room. It was large, but minimally decorated. There was a small window on the wall across from him, with its blinds drawn. Peter was thankful for that--he didn't want to look on the outside world for a long, long time. It was just another reminder of time passing by and people going on living when May wouldn't get that chance, all because of some damn drunk driver.

He felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes and he squeezed them shut to avoid bursting out crying again. The last thing he wanted to do was wake up Miss Potts, or bother Mr. Stark more than he probably already had done. He could hear Mr. Stark's footsteps from across the hall, approaching the room, and anticipated the knock before it happened. "Coming," he replied, before going to let his mentor in.

Tony held up a dark black shirt with some logo that Peter couldn't quite see clearly, as well as some MIT sweatpants. "These should fit you. You can wear them as pajamas until we can get back over to the apartment to go through your stuff, not to mention until we go shopping for you." He tossed them, and Peter caught them, blinking up in confusion.

"You want to take _me_ shopping?" Peter asked incredulously, and Tony looked back at him as if he had just asked the stupidest freaking question on earth. "Me?"

"It's not that big a deal, Pete. I'm gonna be taking care of you, and that entails buying you stuff to make sure you don't starve or freeze or anything like that," he said. "I'm supposed to be looking out for your well-being." He crossed his arms and then smiled despite the tiredness present on his face. He spoke again, but this time his voice was softer. "Good night, Underoos. I'm across the hall, so wake me up if you need anything."

Peter wiped at his eyes quickly and smiled a little in response. "Good night, Mr. Stark. I will," he said, although deep down, he knew that wasn't true. The last thing he wanted to do was wake up Mr. Stark in the early morning just because he'd had a bad dream like a child. There was just something about the idea of waking up screaming and having him come in the room that was just embarrassing.

May had always let him come into her room no matter what time it was, and she would rock him and shush him until his tears would stop, and if it had been a particularly bad one, she would let him stay with her. He would never have that again, and to even think about trying that with Tony Stark was a mortifying concept.

Tony looked as though he wanted to say something more, but he didn't, and simply closed the door to the bedroom, leaving Peter with the clothes and his thoughts. He changed into the new clothes, and once the shirt was in, he realized it was one of the AC/DC shirts that his mentor always wore in the lab when they were working on something, and his heart was warmed. With that, Peter crawled into bed and closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would come quickly.

Unfortunately, that wish was a fruitless one. Peter tossed and turned constantly, his mind always drifting back to the fact that May was gone, or it drifted back to some other sort of thought about the accident. He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Even though Mr. Stark had said he could wake him up if he needed anything, that was the last thing he was planning on doing. Although it also wouldn’t surprise Peter if he had FRIDAY set up to warn him whenever he was in distress. So instead of getting up and bugging his mentor, Peter rolled back over onto his side and pulled out his phone.

There were quite a few text message notifications from both Ned and MJ that he hadn’t bothered to answer, as well as a few missed calls from the both of them. Although if he had to be honest with himself, he didn’t want to talk to either of them right now. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. And returning to school was going to be a nightmare, especially when he remembered that he would undoubtedly be stuck dealing with Flash. He never knew when to leave well enough alone, and that certainly wasn’t going to extend to the current circumstances of things.

Things were bleak as it was right now, but he had a roof over his head, and potentially someone to keep an eye on him. He could only hope that emergency custody would be granted to Tony, though another part of him dared to hope that maybe Tony would go for permanent custody, although that was an outlandish hope, he supposed. He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep, and little did he know that Tony was planning to do just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter took me so long to get around to! I got into a car accident last week so it was a rough weekend. I hope you enjoyed the chapter regardless!


	4. You'll Be In My Heart

The next morning was a dreary one when Tony awoke, and it was also the day of May’s funeral. He rolled over to look at Pepper, who was blinking back at him. The clock on the nightstand next to her read  7:15 AM. “Good morning,” he murmured, brushing some of her hair out of her face. She smiled tiredly. “Today’s gonna be a hell of a day.” He then ran a hand over his beard. “I’ve been thinking, though, and I don’t know if this is a bit of a rash decision on my part, but I--I think I want to adopt Peter, not just get temporary emergency custody of him.”

Pepper’s eyes widened and she blinked off the last traces of sleep in confusion. “You want to adopt Peter?” she repeated back to him, and he nodded.

“If I don’t do it, he’ll go into the foster system and that’s the last thing I want. The emergency custody would only be temporary and then they’d just shuffle him around and he’d never have any stability. Plus I--well, it’s no secret to any of us that I think of him as my kid as it is.” He shrugged as he forced himself into a sitting position.

Pepper smiled a little and put her hand on his cheek. “I’ll have our lawyers get in touch with the DSS and get all the paperwork set up so we can take him in. You’ll be his father legally--but you’re already his father in every way that matters.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Today will be a hard day for him, for sure. Just be there for him when he needs you.”

Tony’s expression wilted just a little, and Pepper’s brow furrowed in confusion as he spoke. “I mean, yeah, I think of him as my own as it is, but--do you think I’m really cut out for--for raising him? For--” He choked on the word. It was a word he didn’t totally feel ready to say, as if it would just make things more real.  _ Fatherhood.  _ “What if I screw it up? What if I screw  _ him  _ up?” He ran a hand through his hair in mild frustration, messing it up as he fisted some of it. “I just don’t want to be like Howard. I don’t want to treat him how Howard treated me--”

“Tony,” Pepper interrupted, reaching her hand up to pull his out of his hair. “You are  _ not  _ your father. And you’ve never treated Peter in the way that Howard treated you. You’ve never abandoned him when he’s needed you most.” She caressed his face, her thumb tracing comforting circles on his cheek. “Don’t forget that.”

Tony let out a sigh. “God, I hope so.” He forced himself out of the bed and stood up. “I know all of this is just going to make worrying about him when he goes out on patrols and stuff even worse because now I’ll have an even greater level of responsibility for him.” He went over to the closet and started pulling out clothes, searching around for a dress shirt that he could wear until he had to get into his suit for the funeral. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to check on Peter.”

Pepper nodded, and propped herself up against her pillow, grabbing her laptop from the nightstand. She opened it, and he could only guess that she was probably getting in touch with their lawyers to draft up something to get custody of Peter before getting around to drafting everything necessary to adopt him. 

Tony closed the door behind him as he left, and he headed towards the room Peter was staying in. “FRIDAY, did Peter sleep all right?” Tony asked, and the AI was quick to respond. He could only hope that Peter hadn’t had too difficult of a night.

“Peter only got a few hours of sleep. He had a few instances of nightmares, however. He appears to be sleeping at the moment, although I anticipate that he will awaken once you enter his room,” she said, and Tony grimaced just a little. He didn’t want to disturb Peter, but they were going to have to get him up and awake before the funeral, and he also wanted to make sure that Peter ate something, even if he didn’t want to.

“Okay, thanks, FRI,” Tony replied, before rapping his knuckles softly against the door. “Peter? Are you awake?” he asked, although he didn’t expect a reply right away. The only acknowledgment he received was a tired groan from inside the room. “Can I come in?” Cue another groan. “I’m coming in.” With that, he grabbed the doorknob and pulled it down, opening the door.

No light came into the room from the window, and it took Tony’s eyes a few minutes to adjust. When they did, he noticed a big lump in the middle of the bed, wrapped up under the blankets like a burrito--it had to be Peter, if his guess was correct. Sure enough, the groan he had heard before rang out from underneath the blanket. “Come on, Pete. Time to rise and shine and have some breakfast.”

Peter poked his head out from under the blanket, his brown curls all awry. Tony couldn't help but chuckle just a little bit, despite knowing Peter probably wasn’t in the best of moods. It was an amusing sight.

“Don’t wanna get up,” he muttered. “Remember what today is and I d’n’t wanna get up.” With that he pulled the blanket farther over his head and retreated back underneath it. Tony pulled the blanket off of him anyway, and then slipped his fingers into Peter’s hair, trying to offer him some measly form of comfort. He was absolutely terrible at knowing what to say or do in cases like this. When  _ he  _ was upset, he closed himself off and busied himself with tinkering around in his lab. And even when it came to comforting other people, the best he could usually do was just give the person a pat on the back and say ‘that’s rough.’

If it was any old person, it wouldn’t really matter, and he wouldn’t pay it much heed. But this was  _ Peter.  _ This was the kid who had been relying on him for so long, who had looked up to him for so long. This was the kid who he had taken into his home in a quick moment of need. This was the kid who he was going to be adopting, for God’s sake. He didn’t want to screw this up. He wanted to be able to comfort Peter somehow.

“I know it’s going to be tough, Peter, but--I think your aunt May would want you to go to this. It’s going to be a small funeral, and it won’t go on for too long.” He didn’t want to sound like an asshole, so he was going to have to figure out just how he could put this delicately enough that he wouldn’t upset him. “I--it’ll be the last time you’ll be able to...to see May,” he said carefully. “I just don’t want you to skip out on this and regret it later. I...I don’t know how else to say it,” Tony murmured with a shrug.

Peter sat up in bed and blinked away the sleep from his eyes as he processed what Tony was saying. His eyes were watery. “I--I know I should probably go, but I think it would just make things even more real for me. I’m--I’m not ready to lose her. It’s so much more permanent.” He looked up at Tony.

Tony’s heart clenched as he looked at Peter’s big brown eyes. “I understand, Pete. Trust me, I understand.” He put an arm around Peter’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Whenever you want to leave the funeral, let me know, and we can leave it. But first you need to eat.”

Peter shook his head even as he leaned into his mentor's comforting touch. "Mr. Stark, I'm not hungry," he protested, though the growling noise that emitted itself from his stomach a moment after was a dead giveaway that he was in fact hungry. As far as Tony knew, he hadn't eaten anything since last night, and given his enhanced metabolism, he always needed to eat more than a normal person.

"Your gut begs to differ, Underoos," Tony pointed out calmly, standing up. "If you don't come downstairs for breakfast and eat it yourself, so be it. I'll just have to bring it up here and spoon feed you like a maid," he declared, moving toward the door. Peter looked mortified at the idea of  _ Iron Man  _ holding a spoon and trying to play the game of 'here comes the airplane' to get him to eat food.

"All right, all  _ right,  _ Mr. Stark, you win. I'll come down," Peter grumbled, throwing the covers off the bed. He trailed down the far-too-fancy spiral staircase after Tony, and then sat down at the table. "Is something up, Mr. Stark? You've been glancing at me off and on a lot in the past few minutes." One brow arched as he looked at his mentor skeptically. 

The expression was almost comical to Tony in a way, despite what he was about to say to Peter--what he was about to ask him. Would Peter entrust himself into Tony's care? If Tony offered to fill that precious role of _father_ in Peter's life that he most definitely didn't deserve to fill, would Peter accept it? Or was this offer too much? Was he crossing some sort of boundary that would ruin their mentor / mentee relationship? 

_ "Let's be honest, Tones, Pete is basically your kid,"  _ Rhodey had said once before.  _ "You may not have a biological child but you're already a mother hen with him." _

_ "You've softened, Tony. You're less rough around the edges. You're…gentler,"  _ Pepper had observed.

_ "He's a damn good kid. And he loves you. I can see it in his eyes. You're like a father to him,"  _ Natasha had insisted after Germany, even when Tony had vehemently denied it.

He supposed he had nothing to worry about, even if his mind kept speaking otherwise. Tony grabbed some pancake batter and began making pancakes, as Peter watched, attention focused on the food. His stomach let out another growl. 

Good. Maybe if he was focused on watching the pancakes, the next statement would be less jarring for him. 

"Listen, Underoos. You know I'm not a super touchy-feely guy, and even this is super hard to say. But…you're an important person to me and I want what's best for you. In this case, circumstances being what they are, since you're technically still a minor, you'd be shuffled around in the foster care system. That thing is broken as hell based off what I've heard, and I don't want you to get stuck in that if emergency custody like--expired or something. So I'm thinking maybe I'd like to adopt you. If you'd  _ want  _ to be adopted, that is," Tony rambled, his grip tightening on the spatula. God, he never even really cooked, but here he was making pancakes like it was the most normal thing ever. What a  _ dad  _ move. 

"But if that's too much, I can understand. I just don't want to see you get stuck in some sucky house that won't understand the whole Spidey thing. There's a lot of reasons, but--if you want me to, the offer is open," he finished, feeling his cheeks flush. His ears were most definitely red, he could feel it; Pepper always teased him about how when he blushed, his ears did the same thing as his face.

He glanced at Peter to try and gauge his reaction. Had he said the right thing? Peter's mouth opened and shut like a fish for a moment, and then settled itself into an 'o' shape, as if he didn't know what to say. Tony could see the distinct shine of tears in the boy's eyes, and then before he could react, Peter had run across the kitchen to him and thrown his arms around him, squeezing tightly, burying his face in his chest.

Tony put his free arm around Peter, though he still had a hold on the spatula. Peter said nothing for a good few moments, merely squeezing his mentor tighter, and then he finally spoke when he had calmed himself down a little more. “I--I’d like that a lot, Mr. Stark. Thank you.”

At least for that moment, even if he wasn’t sure he was doing everything right with this kid, Tony knew he had made the right choice here.


End file.
